


next time read my mind (and i'll be good to you)

by schuywalker



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Gay Dennis Reynolds, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-03-13 21:14:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13579062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schuywalker/pseuds/schuywalker
Summary: He resisted the temptation to check his phone and instead glanced at the sides for the umpteenth time. It wasn’t anything fancy, one of those ill-fated, forcibly hetero January pilots, but it was work and God knew that’s what he needed right now. A few minutes passed, and he was pretty solidly memorized, even confident – that is, until he heard the soft click of the door and a familiar smooth voice came floating across the room at him."Super warm room, but I don't think you have to worry very much about booking this, buddy."(In which Mac and Dennis keep getting sent on the same auditions, and Mac is really pissed about it, until he's not.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A "We're actors whose agents keep sending us on the same auditions, and I hate you for it" AU. Rated M for canon-typical language and general terribleness of The Gang. 
> 
> I'm planning on this being about three to five chapters, but that depends on how deeply I get into this -- it could end up being longer! Title from "Love Machine" (I'm partial to [this cover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FvqL7TVqjwA) by the Arctic Monkeys.)
> 
> As usual, unbetaed. Any and all mistakes are mine.

     Mac knew he had to sit very still while he waited. _No hesitation, no surrender,_ and all that, except that he was definitely hesitant to go on this audition in the first place. It wasn’t the sort of thing he usually went for, but Charlie swore up and down that _you’re perfect for this, dude,_ and sometimes it was better just to listen to him. What kind of actor didn’t listen to his agent, anyway? He resisted the temptation to check his phone and instead glanced at the sides for the umpteenth time. It wasn’t anything fancy, one of those ill-fated, forcibly hetero January pilots, but it was _work_ and God knew that’s what he needed right now. A few minutes passed, and he was pretty solidly memorized, even confident – that is, until he heard the soft click of the door and a familiar smooth voice came floating across the room at him.

     “Super warm room, but I don’t think you have to worry very much about booking this, buddy.” Dennis Reynolds was a complete dick but so talented you could barely be mad at him for it. Mac startled, smoothing the crumpled paper he had been holding over his thigh.

     “Thanks for the warning.” His tone was about as warm as the room Dennis had just described – that is to say, absolutely glacial. Mac turned to face him, with a (he hoped) steely and intimidating gaze. “Not sure I needed it, though, because this is, what, the sixth audition I’ve seen you at?”

     “Eighth.”

     “Yeah, whatever. But it’s not like you need this.”

    Dennis looked coolly amused, in the way that only rich people and jackasses could. It was a look that was reflected in the headshot that glared at Mac from the crook of his elbow. “And it’s absolutely tragic that you _do._ ” He turned to head toward the elevator, not even giving Mac a chance to respond.

     He was still thinking of ways to do it, though, when the receptionist came clicking into the holding room. “Mac MacDonald?”

     “Uh, yeah, that’s me.” Mac shoved his water bottle into his bag as he stood to walk into the room. He hated to admit it, but Dennis really had squirmed his way into his head. He took a few steadying breaths for luck and shut the door behind him. The three people in front of him looked completely uninterested in anything he was about to do. Nevertheless, Mac stood on the little cross of tape and did his best to squeeze life into the lines. It was about the tritest thing he’d had to read for in his life, some _Twilight_ rip-off with magic and waterfalls and werewolf priests. What made Charlie think he'd be "perfect" for this shit? He’d no sooner than uttered the last syllable on the page than he was being dismissed – the director barely spared him a second glance before asking his assistant to grab him a salad. Mac mumbled a perfunctory “thanks all, this was fun” before letting the door slam behind him.

* * *

 

            He headed straight for Charlie’s office, fully prepared to unleash hell on him for how much that had sucked –  but they knew each other so well, it was entirely unnecessary. “Reynolds again?” Charlie had a look on his face that Mac was intimately familiar with – a little sympathetic, but also incredibly pissed off.

            “Yeah, and he’s even more insufferable than last time.”

            “Like that’s possible.”

            “Oh, trust me, it is. He said the room was—” and here Mac put on his best imitation of Dennis’ voice – ‘super warm,’ but they didn’t even look at my resume and the director pushed me out early to grab a fucking salad.” 

             “It’s times like these when I wonder why I don’t just go back to law school…”

            Mac snorted. “Charlie, you were in law school for _two days_ and you dropped out because they wouldn’t teach you how to sue birds for shitting on your car.” At this, Charlie looked more indignant than anyone had a right to look.

            “I’m just _saying,_ bird law should be a thing!”

            “Except that it’s not, and thank God for that _,_ because if you weren’t my agent, I’d probably be booking way fewer gigs than I am now.”

             Mac meant this to be soothing, but he knew it was probably hopeless. Once his agent started on one of his signature tirades, it was futile. Charlie had already turned away and begun furiously dialing the phone. Mac realized this was probably a terrible idea, and he reached out to try to snatch the phone from Charlie’s hands. “Whoa, whoa, hold on, who are you calling? Charlie, that’s not gonna _accomplish_ anything!”

     “Shut up, I’m trying to get in touch with his agent,” Charlie hissed. “She probably has all sorts of insider tips—"

     “She’s not gonna _give them to you_ ,” Mac whispered desperately. But whoever was on the other line had already answered. Charlie was listening somewhat impatiently, whereas Mac was trying to sink into the floor; this sort of thing was such a common occurrence that he kind of thought they’d be over it by now. But _no._ Mac had succeeded a little bit at tuning out the conversation, and then: “You have no honor, you goddamn bitch!” Mac winced at the severity with which the phone was reunited with its cradle.

      “What did you think was gonna happen, Charlie?” Mac allowed himself to get a little snarky. “We’re always going up for the same roles, you think calling his twin sister is gonna gain us any favors? She’s in this business for him!”

      “I don’t know, dude! I thought people still had honor.” Charlie was fully livid now. “Trust me, Mac, we’re gonna make sure you get the next role over him if it’s the last thing I do.” He took a deep breath, finally turning to face Mac. “First, you gotta get new headshots—”

      “Did that last month.”

       Charlie made a face. “Really? I mean – your hair’s so _different,_ Mac. Are you sure they even recognize you? Like, first impressions are everything, if you don’t look like your headshot, you’re kinda screwed.”

      “I’m fine. Relax, it’s not the headshots that are screwing me over.”

      “It could be, though.” Charlie looked as though he was seriously considering this as an option. “Or it’s your name. You should go back to Ronald, maybe.” Mac’s expression shifted to one of abject horror.

      “ _Fuck,_ no. I’m not going by Ronald again, not after Dennis figured out that ‘Ronnie the Rat’ made for a good clickbait headline.” He whipped out his phone. “Look, dude, it’s _still_ going around.” It wasn’t as if he didn’t think that was at least a little bit clever, he had to admit. But still, it was embarrassing as shit. “I haven’t gotten a decent role in months, and I don’t think it’s me.”

     “I don’t either. But what are you gonna do about it, Mac? Short of, like, kicking the guy’s teeth in.” Charlie paused. “I’m not endorsing that, by the way.”

     “I gotta keep going in for appointments, I guess.” Mac let his shoulders slump forward a bit. “Did anything new come in for me? Preferably something Dennis isn’t gonna snatch out from under me with his fucking manicured fingernails?"

      “Not unless you wanna go back to regional commercials.” This seemed to perk Charlie up for some reason. “There’s a few for gyms and shit, do you wanna try that?”

      Mac had to admit that he was tempted. Any scenario in which he got paid to talk about his fitness regimen (and take off his shirt) couldn’t be _all_ bad, really. But on the other hand, he’d been trying really hard to get a pilot off the ground. He sighed – what other options did he even have, at this point? “Fine, I’ll go in. Can you get them to email me the sides?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So you want me to just -- talk to you, or..."  
> “Yeah, yeah, just talk to us, Mac. Tell you what – we’ll make it easier, we’ll tell you what to talk about.” Mac nodded slowly. “Tell us a story about someone who makes you angry.”  
> He almost said _Jesus, I could tell you thousands, buddy, _but thankfully he was more professional than that.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, Chapter 2! Firstly, I'd like to apologize for taking two months to update. Life has been crazy, and this chapter has been sitting in a Word document waiting to be finished and posted. Thank you for being here, and I hope the wait was worthwhile. I'll have the third chapter out as soon as I can (and hopefully not two months from now.)
> 
> As usual, unbetaed. Any and all mistakes are mine.

            The traffic that day was terrible, even for a Saturday, and Mac tried not to think of it as a portent. He yanked his coat tighter around his body as he hurried up the street. He was beginning to regret stopping for coffee, but whatever. He needed energy if he was gonna get this, and if it was at least one role that Dennis wouldn’t get, he’d be happy. He pulled open the door of the gym, immediately greeted by a vaguely nauseating tincture of sweat, fake lemon, and chlorine wafting over from the pool. Mac strode confidently towards the reception desk. A fresh-faced twenty-something was currently staring intently at the computer screen. “Hi, I’m here to read for the—”

“Commercial?” The receptionist (whose name was Isabela _,_ according to the nametag she was wearing) snapped her gum and pointed one glittery nail down the hallway. “Third door on the left. They’re behind schedule, so I wouldn’t count on anything.”

“Cool, thanks,” Mac said dryly, heading in that direction. He pulled open the door to the holding room and stepped inside, surveying the competition. Pickings were slim. Good. There were about ten other guys, all sizing each other up like caged lions. Nice muscles, they definitely hit the gym pretty often, but all in all, fairly inoffensive. Mac smiled thinly at each in turn, only to be met with a blank stare. He gave up and sat cross-legged on the floor.

 

            It was odd – Charlie had emailed asking for the sides, but there was apparently no script. The gym owners were going to “build around the spokesperson for a more organic feel,” whatever the fuck that meant. Mac wished this new trend would stop, if only to have something to do with his hands. He was feeling jittery from the coffee he’d drunk earlier; he stood up to tap a twink-y blond on the shoulder. “If I slip out, do you know if the door will lock behind me?”

            “Dunno, dude, but I heard they’re behind schedule. So you might not wanna leave, ‘cause, like, they could decide to send you home,” the kid said blandly. Mac tossed off a “thanks” and barely repressed the urge to roll his eyes, returning to his position on the floor. He watched as the others in the room were called one by one, each looking more confident than the last as they milled in and out. He was almost tempted to just try his luck with the door, when: “Mac MacDonald, they’re ready for you.”

            Mac hopped up to his feet, maybe a tad _too_ eager, and followed the receptionist through the door. This was always the part of auditions he was the most familiar with, and equally the most nerve-wracking – his body was buzzing with nervous energy. He hoped it wasn’t too evident as he took his place on the mark. For once this panel looked interested in the work he was about to do; he would assume so, since they actually had to pay attention to him, but still. Much appreciated. Mac cleared his throat. “Hi, my name’s Mac MacDonald, and I have to admit I have no idea what I’m doing here.” To his surprise, each of the people before him laughed warmly. A tall, bespectacled man spoke first.

“And that’s the nature of the creative impulse, isn’t it? I’d say all of us have felt that way at some point – and not just in the room.” His companions nodded in agreement. “That’s why we’re giving out story prompts, instead of writing a set script for the audition.” Mac looked perplexed.

“So you want me to just – talk to you, or…”

“Yeah, yeah, just talk to us, Mac. Tell you what – we’ll make it easier, we’ll tell you what to talk about.” Mac nodded slowly. “Tell us a story about someone who makes you angry.”

     He almost said _Jesus_ , _I could tell you thousands, buddy,_ but thankfully he was more professional than that. Instead, he took a breath and pretended to be deep in thought. What to say about the person who made him angrier than anything – and how could he make it non-incriminating? God knew once he got started he was prone to name-dropping. Another deep breath, and he was off. “So there’s this asshole – sorry, this _guy_ – and you might know him actually, so I’ll keep my mouth shut about his name for now.” He mimed zipping his lips and immediately felt like a loser for it – but he kept going. “And I don’t want to say I hate him, because I don’t! He’s brilliant and talented and everything – I could never _hate_ him, y’know?” Mac could almost hear Charlie scoffing at this, but it was the truth, however odd it sounded to hear it out loud. “But he likes to get a rise outta me, and I really hate that he does most of the time.”

     He paused, glancing at the panel before him. Had he revealed too much; were they bored? But to his surprise, they looked absolutely engrossed. The man who had spoken first gave him an encouraging little _go-on_ nod, and the briefest of smiles flickered across Mac’s face. He cleared his throat, feeling a little more confident. “We – I think we’re a lot more similar than I thought at first? Because I know we both work incredibly hard at what we do, and I think that’s why I get so angry when I think about him.” He began to realize that he didn’t know how to end the story. “So – yeah – he pisses me off, but he also, like – makes me a better person, I guess?” Mac breathed out a nervous laugh, a noise that had never before passed his lips during an audition. “Sorry, that was dumb.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you loved it. If you did, or even if you didn't, you can always come scream at me on Twitter @CHARMACDENS and Tumblr @millennialhamlet. If you're so inclined, you can also buy me a coffee using the link in my pinned tweet. <3


End file.
